


Cutting my Heart, Burning my Soul

by Meowcenary



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Consensual Kink, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Edgeplay, Explicit Consent, Knifeplay, Light BDSM, Other, Possessive Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Safe Sane and Consensual, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 22:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21399778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowcenary/pseuds/Meowcenary
Summary: Aziraphale is many things: a collector, a shopkeep, a connoisseur of fine cuisine, a husband, The Angel of the Eastern Gate, and, of course, theSwordbearer."He finally put it together when he realized those dreams he kept having might be related. It was always the same, Aziraphale towering over him, flaming sword clutched in his hand, eyes furious and stone-serious. The threat was different though, not exactly how it happened. It wasn’tor I’ll never talk to you again.It wasor I’ll end you as sure as I’m standingand in the dream he knew the angel could."
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 264





	Cutting my Heart, Burning my Soul

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was "wholesome knife kink." It got more wholesome than planned but there's plenty of blades.
> 
> No Crowleys were injured during the writing of this fic, aka there’s no blood but if you’re into that stay tuned for chapter 2. If not, proceed without fear my friends.
> 
> Keysmash me if you liked it. Stay safe and enjoy ;)

I have spent nights with matches and knives,  
Leaning over ledges, only two flights up.  
Cutting my heart, burning my soul.  
Nothing left to hold,  
Nothing left but, blood and fire.  
[…]  
Won't you wet my fire with your love, babe?  
-_Blood & Fire_, Indigo Girls (1987)

* * *

Crowley threw another handful of pellets to a duck that seemed keen on staying at his feet. "You little glutton," he smirked.

"Mm!" a delighted gasp came from Aziraphale who was sitting at his side.

Crowley looked up in time to see Aziraphale sinking his antique penknife into a fresh apple. His shoulders wiggled as a pleased little grin spread over his face. He cut a thin sliver of apple and brought it to his mouth. The engraved mother of pearl handle glinted in the mid-day sun as Aziraphale placed the apple onto his tongue, sliding the blade away as he enjoyed his fruit. Crowley’s eyes were wide, staring unblinking as Aziraphale brought another slice to his lips. He watched the expert way Aziraphale handled the blade. It dragged over his plump bottom lip, never threatening to break skin under the angel’s delicate hand. Crowley found himself imagining the cold steel on his own lips, Aziraphale’s hand guiding the blade.

"An--ngk," he swallowed, "angel what are you _doing_."

Aziraphale turned, taking a fresh slice of apple into his mouth with his tongue. "Ah," he chewed and looked at his hands and back up at Crowley, "eating an apple? I believe. Oh!" he chuckled, "you’re making a joke. Good one dear, yes I’ve eaten the apple, _temptation accomplished_!" he jested with another shimmy of his shoulders.

Crowley darted his eyes around the park. His cheeks were growing hot. He turned back to a quizzical Aziraphale and reached a hand towards him, brushing his fingertips over the wrist of the hand holding the penknife.

"Ah, dear?" Aziraphale set the apple down on an embroidered handkerchief in his lap and reached his hand to Crowley’s cheek. "Are you alright?"

The duck stared up at Crowley, quacking a grating demand for more food. He pushed the small sack of pellets onto the ground and several ducks circled around to clean the spilled food. "Angel can we uh, go home?"

"Alright dear, will you tell me what exactly is going on with you?" Azirpahale cleaned his knife on the cloth before folding it and sliding it back into his pocket. He wrapped the apple in the handkerchief and stood.

"Ngk, yeah, sure, of course, when we get there." Crowley stood and began walking toward the bookshop. He really could use a brisk walk, he thought.

Crowley reached the bookshop first and paced just inside the door until Aziraphale ambled in. Suddenly, as he had found himself so many times before, the angel was pushed against a wall. The lithe body of a demon who was clearly _going through something_ pressed against him.

"Ah," he started before Crowley crushed his mouth into the angel’s, dipping his tongue in to taste the remnant tartness of the apple. He imagined cool steel on his tongue as he moved his hands from Azirpahale’s lapels to his soft cheeks. Aziraphale pulled away gently. "Darling ah, what has gotten into you?"

Crowley had wedged a thigh between Aziraphale’s legs and pushed himself further into him, burying his nose in Aziraphale’s neck. He inhaled the comforting scent of tea and lavender bar soap. Crowley mumbled something into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

"What was that, dear?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley only let out a muffled whine.

"Oh, Crowley, now you really must speak clearly I’ve no idea what’s gotten into you!" Aziraphale’s curiosity was turning to frustration.

Crowley relented, "That...that _thing_ you were doing angel...do it again."

"What in Heaven..Crowley look at me," he pushed the demon away slightly and cupped his face in gentle hands.

_Ah, his hands are so soft, so delicate, so deft._ Crowley thought of the penknife, how a single hooked finger rested on the blunt edge of the blade as he guided the knife through the crisp flesh of his apple. _I want that to be me, why do I want that to be me, what the fuck._

Crowley lifted his eyes finally. He couldn’t seem to make _words_ happen so he went for the _show_ part of _show and tell_. He slid his palm down Aziraphale’s waistcoat, gliding past his pocket watch, and stopping on his hip. The angel stared, still completely lost as to what exactly Crowley was up to as slender fingers reached into his pocket.

"Wha-- oh," Aziraphale muttered as Crowley palmed the antique penknife and moved it into Aziraphale’s hand.

Aziraphale processed this. He didn't want to interpret this the wrong way but….what other explanation was there? He'd just been told it had to do with his knife. And Crowley was still pressed against him, clearly using all his effort to pace his breathing.

"You...this?" He brought his hand between them and Crowley backed off him.

"Y-y--- well, yeah." Crowley stuttered.

"And what...exactly is it about the knife that got you so...worked up, Crowley?"

"I don't _know_."

"Well I'm not going to hurt you if that's what you're ---"

Crowley cut him off, "no, angel, it's not that. At least I don't think it is. Or it mostly isn't anyway."

"Alright. Then, what is it about this particular item Crowley," he flicked the blade out, "that's made you have to _pounce on me_ the moment I walked through our door?"

"Ngk," Crowley watched the blade flash open. "I...angel.." Was he really about to _explain_ this to Aziraphale? He couldn’t even really explain it to himself. Ever since the _Apoca-not_ he’d been...distracted by a certain set of mundane activities: Aziraphale preparing dinner, chopping vegetables, carving carrots into little flowers, slicing through thick loaves of fresh bread, dividing a delicate cake into bite-size pieces that he would hold to Crowley’s lips and ask, _try this_. Just as he always had, he enjoyed watching Aziraphale delight in the delicacies he had prepared for them. He still leaned forward to watch the angel lick caramel from his lip and wiggle in satisfaction. But lately it was _different_. He’d never been so distracted by the preparation before. It took a few weeks to identify the source of the change.

He finally put it together when he realized those dreams he kept having might be related. It was always the same, Aziraphale towering over him, flaming sword clutched in his hand, eyes furious and stone-serious. The threat was different though, not exactly how it happened. It wasn’t _or I’ll never talk to you again._ It was _or I’ll end you as sure as I’m standing_ and in the dream he knew the angel could. He knew Azirpahale had the strength and ability of force to destroy him. Every time he’d wake with that irritating heat straining between his legs. And he’d _deal with it_, trying his best to remain completely thoughtless through the process, inevitably failing. Then he’d walk down to the kitchen and see him there. Just humming to himself as he maneuvered a double ended citrus knife through a deep red grapefruit and it’d start all over again.

Aziraphale was waiting, patiently watching Crowley process his answer. He reached a hand back to Crowley’s cheek. "Darling, honestly, I’ve known you more than 6000 years now. I doubt there’s anything you could possibly say that I couldn’t understand."

Crowley sighed, "Yeah, well, it’s sort of embarrassing I guess...."

Aziraphale chuckled. "Alright dear," he pocketed the knife again, "Let’s go sit and maybe you can find a way to explain it?" He led Crowley by his clammy, trembling hand to the sofa.

Aziraphale sat, pulling Crowley down next to him. "Come here, darling." He wrapped an arm around Crowley and pulled him close.

Crowley rested his head on the angel’s shoulder and absentmindedly stroked the velvet of his waistcoat. "It’s...well I guess it started at the airbase."

"The airbase? Whyever--" Aziraphale wondered.

"You were there, standing there.." Crowley was stalling.

"I remember." Aziraphale kept him on track.

"Well, when you had your sword, you know?"

"Yes, I also remember that, Crowley. Hard to forget."

"Angel, it was the _sword_." Crowley emphasized the last word, hoping to Someone that his point could be conveyed this easily. He wasn’t exactly prepared to go into all the grisly details.

"The- my sword? My flaming sword?"

"What other-- yes, of course _your flaming sword._"

"So, let’s see if I understand. Today we had to come home in a hurry, and you pinned me to a wall, because…_this_ little thing reminded you of my…_sword._ And that’s not a euphemism."

"On the right track so far," Crowley encouraged, "and good one." he smirked, forgetting his embarrassment for a moment.

"And what you haven't exactly said is how or why."

"Do I have to spell it out for you angel?!"

"I think you do, actually." Aziraphale sat patiently at his side, clearly intent on receiving an answer.

"_You._ You’re all I could look at. It’s the end of the _damned_ world, the bentley was ash and yet all I could think about was you holding that damned sword. I hadn’t seen you with it since Eden, angel. And you wielded it like 6 minutes had passed, not 6000 years! Angel, you’re _powerful_." Crowley shuddered under Aziraphale’s arm. It was almost in fear but more respectful than that. It was awe.

"Well, it _was_ my sword I should be able to wield it!"

"Angel!" Crowley whined in annoyance.

"Ah, yes?"

He was fidgeting with Aziraphale’s pocket watch and squirming in his seat. "ItsjustIwantyoutofuckmewithabladetomyskin," Crowley hurriedly mumbled.

Aziraphale froze. He considered pretending like he didn’t understand Crowley but the truth was that after 6000 years of this he had developed an ear for deciphering Crowley’s cryptically mumbled messages. "_Oh._" His chest swelled with the familiar buzz of angelic possessiveness and protection. His relationship to his blade was as a guardian and now that Crowley had brought it up he was getting a bit dizzy with his need to _guard_ Crowley. It didn’t really make sense but somehow it did, on a deeper ethereal level.

Crowley’s eyes widened and he looked up to meet Aziraphale’s gaze. "Oh? Is that a good _oh_ or a --"

"Oh, quite positive darling," _if a bit complicated_, he thought.

"Ngk," Crowley swallowed as he detected a mischievous glint in Aziraphale’s eyes. His chest stuttered. He tried to catch his breath but Aziraphale’s hand was slowly trailing up his torso. "Ok," he watched Aziraphale’s eyes lower and tried to follow them, "positive, then, eh?"

"Oh, I think so." Aziraphale’s hand now rested on Crowley’s shoulder. He moved to brush his soft fingertips over Crowley’s throat and the demon clenched his eyes shut, clearly holding back some sort of noise Aziraphale would quite like to hear some time. he continued stroking Crowley’s neck "Here? Darling? Or maybe…" his hand moved to Crowley’s sternum, slipping through the V-neck collar and stopping over his beating corporeal heart, "start here?"

Before he had a moment to think, Crowley was on top of Aziraphale. He had pushed him back on the sofa, meeting his lips, sinking his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth in a deep, hungry, desperate kiss. He still held Azirpahale’s face in his hands, tongues laving over each other, refusing to pull away as he nodded and moaned an "mhm."

Aziraphale let Crowley lean into him and wrapped a thigh around his slight waist. Crowley's hips twitched instinctively, bucking into Aziraphale's stomach.

Aziraphale broke free from the kiss, "oh, you quite liked that didn't you." He grabbed Crowley by the hips and flipped them over. He was sitting upright on top of the prone demon, straddling Crowley's hips. He placed a hand over Crowley's heart again, in a flash the demons shirt was gone. "You know. I didn't give it away because I didn't _want it_. I was always fond of my blade."

Crowley pushed his hips up into his angel with a stifled whine.

Aziraphale grinned, pleased at the affect he was having on his lover. "After all," he leaned in a bit, "I was made to be the swordbearer wasn't I, dear? Just as sure as you're the original tempter." He trailed a finger down Crowley’s chest. The demon grabbed hold of Aziraphale's hips, eyes wide, nodding in vague agreement.

"Angel…" he glanced down at Aziraphale's hand, still tracing small patterns over Crowley's bare chest. "Please.."

"Ah." Aziraphale grinned, "since you ask so _well_." He reached to slide the penknife out of his pocket and Crowley's grip tightened.

Aziraphale snapped the blade open. "I've always been fond of my blades you know, dear." He moved the knife close to Crowley's chest, hovering close enough that he could feel the contact of a cool edge when his chest rose with each strained breath. "I've kept this little one in new condition since 1880." He smiled with obvious pride as he brought the very tip of the knife down, lightly grazing Crowley's sternum. He had flipped the blade blunt side down and was dragging the pointed tip lightly over the demons torso.

Crowley felt the light sting of the blade. It didn't hurt, really. It was only a bit sharper than the sting of Aziraphale’s nails in his back when he rode him in their bed in the evening light. It was just enough to light up his skin and make him want _more_. More of _what_ he wasn't sure but a hunger was building in his chest. He knew he wanted Aziraphale, knew he wanted to feel him on his skin, inside his body, inside his soul.

Aziraphale felt his heart swell, an instinct of protectiveness washed over him. He was a guardian. His power was meant for keeping others safe. It was a small blade but if his intentions had been any different, it would have still been possible to do some damage. But he wouldn't and Crowley knew that too. His hand was deft, steady, deliberate. He applied a just a bit more pressure, still not enough to break skin. Crowley arched his back, causing his chest to push into the blade. Aziraphale responded to his force by letting up on his own, maintaining the careful, calculated contact. He settled himself between Crowley’s legs and nudged them wider. His free hand rested on Crowley’s chest. He traced a line back down Crowley’s torso. On Crowley’s skin, the tip of the blade left a pink line in its wake. Crowley looked down to see the faint markings and his heart jumped. He rolled his hips to grind into Azirpahale’s thigh.

"Please, angel. Please. I need you."

Aziraphale’s guardian instinct was flaring out from his chest, dizzying him, consuming him. He wanted to take Crowley, to make sure he knew he belonged to him, he would never and had never abandoned his post. He had kept him safe this long. He snapped and the obstacle of their clothing was removed. Crowley immediately reached a hand to stroke Aziraphale’s already swollen cock. The angel gasped and rocked into the contact. He returned to his task of dragging the cool blade over Crowley’s skin. He was tracing under Crowley’s nipple, just close enough to cause the demon to whine.

Crowley felt the craving in his body to be filled by his angel. The hand that wasn’t on Aziraphale’s cock grabbed onto his soft hip. Crowley tilted his own hips up, "can I?" he sounded absolutely desperate.

Aziraphale nodded, "yes, dearest --- oh!" Crowley guided Aziraphale into the heat of his body and groaned out a desperate noise as the angel sank into him. "Ah, darling, you feel..oh you feel _so good_." Crowley moaned as he dug his fingertips into Aziraphale’s plush thighs.

The knife in Aziraphale’s hand was forgotten momentarily as he adjusted and carefully settled into Crowley’s depths. As soon as he was in to the hilt, Aziraphale began to roll his hips slowly. His clenched fist rested on Crowley’s chest, the flat side of the polished steel pressing against his skin, warming with his body heat. They found their rhythm, moving their bodies in unison, connected at the cores of themselves.

Crowley gasped as Azirpahale remembered the blade clasped in his fist. Slowly, the angel selected the only part of Crowley’s chest that wasn’t simply bone thinly veiled by ivory skin. He pressed the blade into Crowley’s pectoral carefully as he pushed his cock deeper into his throbbing cunt. Crowley arched his back, breath catching in excitement and the unique thrill of a fantasy fulfilled. Simultaneously, he could feel the protective aura emanating from his angel and the primal fear of Aziraphale’s full power. His heart raced as Aziraphale’s pace quickened.

"A--Angell" Crowley pleaded.

"Yes, love?" Aziraphale panted out.

"Fuck, ah, fuck don’t stop. More, please."

Aziraphale revisited his slow, steady pace and clasped Crowley by the hip to steady them both. He lifted his hand and touched the fine point to the flesh above Crowley’s beating heart. He scratched a diagonal line from Crowley’s pectoral, over his sternum. The demon moaned as the brief stinging fell back into a subtle burn. The sting and fire of his angel covered his skin. Aziraphale retraced the line he’d made and thrust hard into Crowley. The demon’s hands were clawing into Aziraphale’s sides, pulling him closer, deeper into himself as he moaned out ancient prayers. Aziraphale made another slanted mark, leaving a raised pink X on Crowley’s chest.

"You’re mine, Crowley." he nearly growled.

The demon keened.

"You’re mine," he thrust hard, "I’ve got you." he continued to scratch over Crowley’s skin lightly. It was more careful that he really should have been able to manage while maintaining the force of his thrusts, but such is life with an angel.

Crowley’s head was cloudy with pleasure and overwhelming love. In his ecstasy, he found himself still hungry for more, wishing Aziraphale’s blade was larger, wishing for some reason that Azirpahale would let the blade sink into him, knowing he wouldn't dare hurt him.

Aziraphale groaned as he rocked into Crowley, "I’ve got you and," he gasped, "and, oh darling and nothing will happen to you so long as I am with you." The angel’s voice cracked and Crowley opened his eyes to look at Aziraphale. His pale eyes were glossy with unshed tears. He leaned in and Crowley grabbed him by the cheeks, pulling him into his mouth. As Azirpahale relaxed into their kiss, his fist remained pressed to Crowley’s chest. The blunt edge of the blade dug in, a sharp pressure on his exposed sternum. Crowley wrapped his legs up around Aziraphale’s back and bucked up into him.

He pulled away from the kiss. He held Aziraphale’s face close and pressed their foreheads together. "Fuck angel, oh fuck, don’t stop please." And he meant the fucking, of course, but the message was recieved that he didn’t want Aziraphale to stop loving him or protecting him or, more precisely, _wanting_ to protect him either. As their bodies rolled into each other, Aziraphale’s protective aura flooded the room.

"Angel, I’m---," Crowley dug his nails into Aziraphale’s sides, tilting his hips and parting his thighs further, welcoming Aziraphale to drive deeper into him, deeper than should have been possible. Aziraphale quickened his pace, pushing further into his demon, unable to get quite close enough.

"Angel don’t ever, don’t ever stop." It was a plea to the sun, a wish on a falling star.

Aziraphale pressed the knife to Crowley’s chest, a small earthly symbol of power he held back, letting it flood the room. He wrapped his other arm behind Crowley’s shoulder for leverage. "Never. I will never be away from you again Crowley." Aziraphale buried his nose in Crowley’s neck and continued, "I’m here. I’m not letting you go."

Crowley felt safe and _held._ Aziraphale’s body covered him, held onto him firmly, their souls connected by their their 6000 years of companionship as much as by their present Efforts. Aziraphale bit down on Crowley’s neck and sucked a possessive bruise while he continued to thrust into him. As Crowley came, his back arched and his legs held Aziraphale desperately close. A burst of light flashed behind his eyelids and he cried out his angel’s name.

"Aziraphale! Ah- Az- I-"

"I’m here," his angel whispered into his ear as the demon rode his orgasm. "Ah, oh my love, I’m here, I’m here, I’m h---" the words became a mantra, a promise, an oath. Crowley came down from his orgasm to feel his angel spill into him, pushing as deep as their corporations would allow.

After several moments passed Aziraphale heard Crowley croak, "Did you mean it?"

"Of course Crowley. All of it," Aziraphale crooned in his ear. They stayed like that, Aziraphale growing soft inside Crowley, arms and legs tangled together, pulling closer.

* * *

Several weeks later Crowley sauntered past the "Closed" sign and into the bookshop that was never locked for him. He’d spent the day inspiring minor temptations around London and looked forward to a quiet night in with his angel. He expected that the evening would involve a meal of some kind, a few glasses of wine, and several hours of Aziraphale reading as Crowley sprawled out on the chaise and scrolled through various social media, _spreading foment_ in the modern age. Crowley didn’t find Aziraphale in the sitting room or his office so he climbed the stairs two at a time and walked toward the small kitchen tucked in their apartment.

As expected, Aziraphale was standing at the kitchen counter slicing cremini mushrooms and fresh carrots that Crowley had harvested from his rooftop garden that morning. He was humming a familiar melody to himself and wiggling his shoulders in anticipation and delight. Consumed by his task, Azirpahale hadn’t detected Crowley’s presence yet so Crowley took a moment to stand at the door admiring him, a dopey smile spread across his face.

"I thought I might find you here, angel." He walked up behind Aziraphale and wrapped his arms around his middle. He rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder. "What’re making?"

"Oh! Crowley, hello dear." Aziraphale turned to give Crowley a kiss. I’m just getting started on the _coq au vin_!"

"Mm, sounds delicious angel. I look forward to it." He meant that he looked forward to watching Aziraphale enjoy it. Still, he knew he wouldn’t refuse when Aziraphale held up a spoon and emplored _try it, dear_, and it _would_ be delicious.

Crowley placed a kiss on Aziraphale’s cheek and moved to lean against the sink. He looked awfully nonchalant even though his heart had started beating faster since he caught a glimpse of Aziraphale's manicured hands deftly guiding his knife through Crowley's vegetables.

Aziraphale smiled and paused his task to turn toward his demon. "Have a good time out, dear?"

"Ah, yeah, was alright." After a moment he added, quietly, "missed you," and then immediately regretted the decision. His cheeks blushed and he wished to Somebody for something to happen to end this moment of mortification. Aziraphale came through, setting his knife down so he could place his hand on Crowley’s cheek. He leaned in to kiss him. Crowley was extremely grateful for this. He leaned into the kiss and noticed, suddenly, that a low heat had manifested in his groin the moment he heard the soft clatter of Aziraphale’s kitchen knife hitting the cutting board. His hips bucked involuntarily.

_Oh_, Aziraphale thought as he connected Crowley’s reaction to its source. "And I missed you, love."

Crowley gave a clenched-jaw groan that was half annoyance and half _say it again, say it every day_.

Aziraphale smiled and turned back to slicing vegetables. Crowley stood beside him, watching his hands glide through the process, perfected by 2000 years of practice. The heat in his belly turned to an ache and then, just minutes later, a _longing_ that left him feeling empty. He kept his eyes fixed on the angel as he slid the vegetables into a pot on the stove.

Aziraphale walked up to the sink where Crowley was standing, knife and cutting board in hand. "Oh, can I get through for a moment darling?"

Crowley slid down the counter.

"Thank you," he smiled, watching Crowley’s curious reaction as he began to scrub the knife clean. Crowley gripped the edge of the counter and bit his lip, obviously concentrating on not _being obvious_ and failing miserably.

Aziraphale turned off the faucet and began to dry the knife with an embroidered towel. Crowley eyed the shine of the blade as Aziraphale ran the towel over it. When he moved to return the knife to it’s designated slot in the knife block, Crowley stopped his hand. He grabbed Aziraphale by the wrist and for several moments didn’t move past that. Eventually, he looked up behind dark glasses to see the angel predictably staring at him, mouth open slightly in an implied, though insincere _what was that for?_.

"Ngk," Crowley swallowed and tightened his grip on Aziraphale’s wrist without noticing.

Aziraphale let the tension hang in the air and watched as Crowley squirmed under it. Finally, he broke their silence, "It’s the blade again dear, that’s got you in such a state then?" The corner of his angelic mouth curved up as though he was quite enjoying making Crowley’s skin grow hot under his probing gaze.

"Angel…" Crowley couldn’t produce words past that one. That one word he had said more than any other over the last 6000 years, in varying languages through time and place. It was sewn to his heart, the only word he couldn’t forget in moments like this when all the others evacuated as if there was a state of emergency in his mind.

Aziraphale twisted his wrist slightly and Crowley let go, "oh, s’rry," he slurred, his eyes flitted toward the ground. He was thinking again of Aziraphale at the airbase. He thought about the flicker of flame reflected in his angel’s stern, icy eyes. He thought about what it felt like to have the angel’s hands around his own wrists and around his waist. He pictured the angel’s confident grip around the hilt of his own sword.

Aziraphale lifted his free hand to rest on Crowley's chest. "Quite alright." He felt Crowley’s corporeal heart beating under his palm. He scanned the demon up and down, noticing the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the flush rising up his neck, slight tremble in his hands.

Aziraphale felt his own heartbeat speed in sympathy. He had been looking forward to dinner with Crowley but with this development, he decided dinner could wait. He turned off the burner with a snap and leaned in, holding his face next to Crowley's cheek. Crowley’s want was obvious and there was not much need for subtelty now so he flicked his tongue over Crowley's ear and whispered, "would you like me to," he paused to listen to Crowley's breath hitch, "_fuck_ you, dear?"

A whine came from the demon and he grabbed Aziraphale’s lapels. His teeth were clenched, trying to hold himself together. Images from his dreams ran through his mind. To Aziraphale, he looked as if he might float away if he wasn’t allowed the anchor of his angel.

Aziraphale lifted a hand and removed Crowley's glasses. "If you can't speak, dear, at least I can see your eyes, yes?"

"Yes, yes." And they both heard the permission, the agreement, and the pleading in Crowley's voice. His skin was on fire and a deep hunger burned inside him.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley, pulled him in, and pressed his mouth to the demon's. Crowley moaned on his tongue and he pressed it deeper. Aziraphale's right hand was still holding the knife and the back edge pressed into Crowley's back. His heart raced, knowing the risk, loving the danger.

Aziraphale pushed a hand up Crowley’s shirt, resting his palm on his warm belly. He moved his fingers over Crowley’s skin gently. He was burning so hot he almost burned to touch.

“Oh, darling. You’re barely holding on to your corporation. Take a few breaths before I find a serpent in my kitchen.” He grinned into Crowley’s neck and blew cool air behind his ear. Crowley’s hips rutted up.

Crowley panted, “I’ll be fine angel, just, just don’t make me wait, please.”

“Of course not,” he hummed into Crowley’s ear.

Aziraphale tangled his fingers in Crowley’s hair and pushed him to his knees. Crowley went easily, like he had only been waiting for the angel’s word. Aziraphale held Crowley’s face close to the erection pressed to his leg. Crowley ran the bridge of his nose and then his cheek over Aziraphale’s effort with a needy groan. "Angelll." it was a small, hoarse whisper but Aziraphale received the message.

"Unfasten my trousers," Aziraphale instructed in a firm, steady voice. Crowley pushed his face into Aziraphale’s soft thigh and fumbled at the fasteners. Eventually, he freed Aziraphale’s hard cock and stared up, awaiting further instructions. It was then that he realized just how close the blade was to his cheek. Azirapahle met his gaze from above him and ran the edge of the knife along his cheekbone. Crowley’s eyes fluttered shut and he let out another whine. He whined as the cool steel traveled over his face.

"Take me in your mouth," the tip of the blade drew over his skin softly, "I’m going to fuck your throat because you’re _mine_." His last words were strong and hungry.

Crowley spared no time. The moment Aziraphale gave his request Crowley took Aziraphale on his tongue, into his mouth. He laved the back of his tongue over the head of Aziraphale’s cock and curled around the underside of him. Once Crowley had settled, Aziraphale tightened his grip in his hair and pulled him closer. His other hand rested on Crowley’s shoulder, the cold blade grazing his back. Aziraphale thrust into him as he looked down into his demon’s eyes. _Those eyes_, so hungry, so wanting, so devoted. He pulled Crowley in again and the demon gagged and gasped, gripping Aziraphale’s thighs. He closed his eyes and focused on relaxing his throat. He let Aziraphale push deeper, then even deeper until he felt the angel’s legs shake before he started fucking into him.

He held the blunt edge to the back of Crowley’s neck as he thrust into him over and over again. Crowley’s cunt was a low, throbbing ache by now. He let Aziraphale push into him and felt him filling his mouth. He wanted Aziraphale to take what he needed and then _more_. He always had _more_ to give his angel. The knife dug into his neck and he moaned around Aziraphale’s cock. He so desperately wanted to reach his hand down to touch himself but he had to remain focused because by now Aziraphale’s thrusts were quick, uneven, and greedy. Crowley could taste the sublime electric salt of angelic precum in the back of his throat. He dug his nails into Aziraphale’s thighs when the angel pushed him down again. A perfectly _sinful_ noise came from Crowely’s throat and Aziraphale brought him down again to see if he could recreate it. He found he _could_ and looked down at his messy demon. His eyes were wide and his lips red and slick with his own saliva.

Aziraphale groaned as he pulled Crowley off his cock, "get up."

Crowley scrambled to his feet and felt his heart jump as he almost lost his balance. Aziraphale caught him in an embrace. He pushed Crowley against the kitchen counter and pressed a knee between Crowley's legs. The demon gasped and bucked his hips forward into Aziraphale's cloud-soft thigh. He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's neck and pulled him in, letting him push his tongue past panting lips. The kiss was electrifying and left a slight ache on his tongue, like holding ice to your skin too long. Aziraphale's possessive, protective aura was flared up again and he was dripping with divinity.

Crowley broke their kiss and pressed his forehead to Aziraphale’s, "Please, angel?" he breathed out.

"Mm, please what?" Aziraphale nipped at his neck and pushed his thigh further into Crowley’s groin.

"Angel, take me, here, please," he bit his lip, "I can't wait any longer. I need you."

Aziraphale began to slowly undo Crowley’s fly, grinding his cock into Crowley’s pelvis. "Oh you do? And what will happen if I deny you, dear?" He reached his hand into Crowely’s trousers, over his pants. He gently brushed over his swollen clit.

"I..I..ngk," he raised his hips to press into Aziraphale's hand but the angel pulled back, "I think..I'll _discorporate_, angel"

Aziraphale grinned and brought the knife up to brush over the back of Crowley's neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Well," Aziraphale whispered in his ear, "I can't have that happening, can I dear?" He grabbed Crowley by the hips and turned him around, pressing him into the counter. Crowley whined, feeling the hilt of the knife pressed into his hip bone and the length of Aziraphale’s hard cock pressed to his arse. Aziraphale tugged his trousers down. He spared no time. The ache in his soul desiring nothing more than to give Crowley what he needed. He pulled Crowley’s hips closer and guided his cock into his slick heat. He clawed into Crowley’s hips with one hand and brought the blunt edge of the knife against Crowley’s throat with the other.

Crowley felt Aziraphale enter him and it felt like his soul was mended. It felt like he was whole again, unfallen and unmarred. Aziraphale filled a crack in his essence and formed a more beautiful creature than he had ever been even in Heaven. He gripped the counter and pushed his hips back into Aziraphale as the angel fucked into him, taking every inch and every celestial atom of his angel.

Crowley wanted to scream his angel’s name. He wanted to know the deep, threatening fear of loss again. It was a pain that had lived within him since the world didn’t end. As soon as Aziraphale’s threat reached his ears he acted without a plan. He acted, fueled by adrenaline and fear and love. He acted because at the core of him something unraveled and the pain of it, the pain of losing him again was unbearable.

"Aziraphale I--" It wasn’t the time. It wouldn’t make sense to him.

Aziraphale pressed the knife against Crowley’s neck and lost himself in the rhythm of their motions. Clutching the handle of the knife was so familiar, so natural, and so nostalgic. He felt his mind wandering to wars fought before there was an earth at all. But now there was and because of that, he could be here like this with Crowley. He brought his mind back to the room. He looked below him at Crowley. He was flushed and panting and _beautiful_. Aziraphale tangled his fingers in Crowley’s hair to turn his face to the side. Something half like pain and half ecstasy played on the demon’s face.

Aziraphale groaned at the sight, “you’re a dream, darling. And you’re mine.” He clawed into Crowley’s hair, held the knife firmly to his throat, and drove himself deeper inside his infernal depth. Aziraphale thought of how _lucky_ he was to have him, how much he must trust the angel not to hurt him even after everything that had happened during the rebellion. He thought about how Crowley was finally his and now that he was, he’d do anything in his angelic power to protect him and their love.

He moved the hand in Crowley’s hair around to rest on his chest and leaned in. He felt the red-hot warmth of his demon’s body against his chest and his heart raced. Aziraphale clawed into Crowley’s chest to push _deeper_ inside him. Without thinking, he pressed a kiss into Crowley’s back. Just as he worried he’d ruined the facade of game, he heard Crowley whine and grip tighter around him. _Oh, he liked that_ Aziraphale planted another kiss to Crowley’s shoulder blade, shifted his grip on the knife, and said, "You cannot leave me, Crowley. I won’t let you and you know I’d be able to stop you if you tried. You’ll be mine until time really ends," he ended with a growl.

Crowley’s cheeks were red and his breath ragged. He reached a hand between his legs and began to rub circles over his clit. He arched his back. "Angel I--I promise I won’t." Crowley gave in. He let Aziraphale have him: corporation and essence both. Aziraphale reached into him and took hold while he moaned into the demon’s ear. Aziraphale’s movements sped and Crowley coughed out, "yours. Angel. I'm yours. Do what you want, take what you _need_" Aziraphale dug his nails into Crowley's chest and drew the back of the knife in even further. Crowley's throat ached against the pressure and suddenly the sharpness turned to a searing pain. In an instant Crowley realized the knife pressed to his throat had caught fire in Azirapahale’s grip.

"AH!" Aziraphale flung the flaming knife across the room and stumbled away from Crowley. "Crowley. Oh my, oh my!" a panic clawed at his chest. "Are you alright? Oh no, no no," Aziraphale looked like a man being tackled by his own demons.

Crowley cleared his throat and brought a hand to his neck, inspecting the damage to find there was none. His head buzzed and he could still feel the electric burn of holy fire on his neck but it had not so much as scalded him. He turned to the angel, "hey, Aziraphale, calm down its ok." He placed a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and drew him in. "I'm ok."

The stinging on his neck was dying down quickly but Aziraphale was staring into the middle distance with a look of devastated shame. "Look," he bared his neck to the angel. "I'm ok. It didn't hurt me."

Aziraphale let out a shaky sigh and tried to unclench his fists. Crowley lifted his hand to hold Aziraphale's cheek and pressed a kiss to the corner of Aziraphale's worried lips. "You wouldn't hurt me," his voice was calm and sure, if a bit hoarse.

"Crowley, I’m--" he trailed off. His eyes darted around, apparently unable to focus his mind or his vision. He looked unsteady, like he was ready to fall over.

"I know. Come here." Crowley caught him and led him through the door to their bedroom. He sat him down on the edge of their bed. "Um, so, maybe not the time but did you know you could…"

"No." He sounded like he was miles away.

"So that was?" Crowley wondered.

"The first time, yes," his voice was soft, almost afraid.

"Why...well, why angel?"

"I think…" he sounded lost, like a man who had just found a secret door in the house he grew up in and thought he knew inside and out. "I think because I wanted to protect you, maybe?"

Crowley huffed a quiet laugh, "ah, sorry angel. It’s just a little ironic isn’t it?"

"I don’t _know_,” his face was a crinkled mess, “I don’t know what makes sense, Crowley," he looked up to those ever-curious slitted eyes and gasped as Crowley took him in a kiss.

Crowley knew. Of course he understood. He wanted the same thing from Aziraphale as Aziraphale wanted to give him. The danger, the origin of that deep and visceral fear, it was always Aziraphale’s power, not a mere chef’s knife.

He pulled away. "I know," Crowley hummed, "my angel." He nudged Aziraphale to lay back on the bed. He snapped and they were undressed, cleaned, and under Azirpahale’s flannel sheets and fluffy duvet. They drew each other in, pressing their corporations as close as they could, feeling as much of the other’s warm skin as possible. Crowley let Aziraphale rest his head on his chest. He began to stroke the angel’s downy curls and felt the comforting weight of Aziraphale’s arm and thigh draping over him. Aziraphale drew Crowley in. He held on tighter than usual but Crowley was basking in it.

"It was always you," Crowley whispered, "only you."

Aziraphale’s chest seized and he let out a sob he’d been holding in for only God herself knows how long.

"It’s alright, sweetheart. My sweet angel, it’s alright." He meant _you’re safe_ and _you can cry here, with me_ and _I’ll be here._

Aziraphale held onto him as if he might slip off the earth into an ethereal, discorporate expanse of space.

Crowley lifted Azirpahale’s chin with his finger. "Angel," his voice was calm, "are you alright? You seem rather shaken and I was the one with a flam---oh, no it’s alright Aziraphale." The angel’s tears had begun anew.

"I have no intention of fighting…" Aziraphale trailed off.

"No one said you had to, Aziraphale. You don’t have to. I’m sorry if I asked too much."

"I thought," Aziraphale’s voice was shaky, "I thought that since heaven didn’t want me anymore…"

"That your power would go away?" Crowley looked puzzled.

"Well, not all of it. But surely there’s someone more suited for this that they could give it to."

"Heaven didn’t give you the sword, Aziraphale," his eyes flitted up to the ceiling, "She did." A fond smile crossed his lips, "She made you on purpose." He paused, deciding whether or not to say the next bit, "I think you’re perfect, Aziraphale. And your power, even ones we didn’t know you had this morning, well," he almost blushed, "well I like it is all."

Aziraphale felt his heart jump. He considered Crowley’s words. He had feared that something evil, not demonic, not simply fallen, but cold and unfeeling had arisen in him. But if he thought back, there was never a moment of coldness. It was all warmth and love and, well, possession. "Crowley?"

"Hm?"

"Are you," he swallowed, "mine?"

Crowley jumped, "Well...Aziraphale," the angel prepared for the worst, "I think I’ve been pretty clear about that. Even less than half an hour ago?"

Aziraphale’s face rose, then fell, "but that was _sex_, Crowley! It’s not the _same_." A renewed look of worry settled into his face.

"Yes." His gaze was unflinching. He meant it. "Always have been." He pushed back any feeling of embarrassment. He should know by now Aziraphale wasn’t going to flee at the slightest sign of affection now. The angel’s ice-blue eyes turned to endless pools. Crowley placed a finger under Aziraphale’s chin. "Look at me." Aziraphale hesitated and then let Crowley lift his face. "What do you need?"

Aziraphale’s eyes glistened. "Me? Aren’t you--"

"I told you I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. I wasn’t afraid. Clearly you are, though."

Tears spilled over Aziraphale’s cheeks and his breath caught in his chest. "Maybe I’m no good for you. I’ll spoil you. You’ve said no to Hell and to Heaven and here I am, one of them. It’s in me, the wrath, the power or whatever it is. The fury of Heaven. I can _feel_ it."

Crowley listened as Aziraphale let his words fall from this quivering lips. "I can feel it too, Aziraphale." He saw the angel flinch. "And it doesn’t belong to Heaven. It’s yours, it’s you. You have such a massive wealth of power and you’ve kept it stored away. You put it in a box and set it on a shelf because you didn’t need it to do your job and you had no desire to hurt the humans down here. But it was always yours to do with as you needed. I don’t think the sword was the source of it, angel. I’ve always felt the current, the spark of your strength around you. When you discuss your favorite Wilde or a particularly decadent mousse or," he stopped to collect himself and brushed his thumb over Aziraphale’s tear-stained cheek, "or when you kiss me. I can feel the buzz of your power on your skin." He leaned in closer. "It belongs to you, angel." Crowley bent forward to press his lips to Aziraphale’s and he felt the angel shiver under him. "It’s yours and you won’t let it be evil and it can’t overtake you because it _is_ you." His eyes were pleading for Aziraphale to believe him.

Aziraphale turned his eyes away and buried his face into Crowley’s chest, clutching him close. He had to think about this. He’d never really thought of himself as powerful. He was _soft_. After the world didn’t end he had assumed that any power he had been gifted would vanish. He never considered the possibility that it was a part of him or that he could wield it as he liked.

Crowley was stroking Aziraphale’s hair when he heard a muffled sound come from the angel. "Yes, dear? What was that?"

"I liked it. I didn’t want to but I liked it," his tone was confessional, repentant. "I wanted the power to," he hesitated, "I wanted the strength to protect you. I’m always afraid they will come back and try to take you. When I do sleep, I dream of stopping them with my fury and love for you alone, dear" he looked up at Crowley with a vulnerability that twisted in Crowley’s chest. “I just didn’t think I was enough.”

Suddenly, Aziraphale felt his fist tightening around cool steel. At the same time Crowley felt the familiar sensation of the flat edge of a blade pressed to his back.

"Um, Crowley…" he said, but the question was _where did that come from?_

"Yeah uh, I think that was me, angel." Crowley’s cheeks went hot and he worried his unintentional miracle would hurt Aziraphale, make him feel like a tool or a means to an end.

Aziraphale’s heart quickened as he felt the connection to his holy essence rebuilding. He shifted away and pressed Crowley’s chest so he would lay flat on his back before laying his head on Crowley’s shoulder.

He looked up and could see the puzzlement on Aziraphale’s face. “I uh, I liked it too, Aziraphale.” His name buzzed across his tongue. Aziraphale’s worry turned to curiosity and excitement.

Crowley's breath hitched as Aziraphale dragged the knife slowly across his chest. Crowley felt his arousal from earlier creep back in. "Uh, angel I uh, if you keep doing that--"

"I know."

Crowley hesitated, "you're okay with--"

"I want to see you, Crowley. I want to see you come undone for me, to be here as you lose control. I'll always catch you when you fall."

Crowley let out a decidedly undemonic whimper, "_angel_." There was more to it than just a word or a name and Aziraphale heard it all. He heard the pleading, the grasping, and the millennia of loving.

Aziraphale tilted the blade so the tip dragged gently down Crowley's chest. Crowley felt the peculiar tickle/sting softly trailing across his chest and arched his back. A heat was building in his groin.

"Touch yourself for me darling," Aziraphale directed.

Crowley took in a breath, the command sent a rush of arousal down his body. “Yes, angel,” he moved his hand down to dip into the wetness coating his labia. "_Angel_," he repeated his devotion.

Aziraphale’s confidence was rebuilding. "You're such a vision and you're mine, Crowley," Aziraphale crooned into his ear. Crowley began rubbing circles over his swollen clit and his hips tilted toward the heavens. Aziraphale lifted to his elbow and leaned in to kiss down Crowley’s collarbone. "I'll protect you always, it's all I've ever wanted, to keep you safe." He trailed the blade idly up Crowley's torso.

Crowley felt the drag of the blade as he rode his own hand but he needed more. Hepanted, "more angel, please more."

Aziraphale added pressure to the back of the blade and peppered kisses up Crowley's neck. He hummed in Crowley's ear, "I feel it, my strength, it makes me dizzy. Like my love for you, dear." He could feel Crowley tensing under him, could hear Crowley’s breath catch. "I will always, always be here for you my love. You’re so _good_, so deserving of love, the shining star that’s guided me and kept me together. Please let me repay you, be mine, let me be your shelter." He kissed Crowley’s jaw, then the snake mark beside his ear.

Crowley shook under the praise, his cheeks, neck and chest red from it all. "Aziraphale, I- I-," he stuttered in overwhelm, "I _am_ yours." He felt the confession as though it was the only truth in the galaxy. He was held, kept safe by the great angel that hovered over him, ever watchful.

That's all Aziraphale wanted to hear and it was more than he could have asked for. He melted into Crowley, laying a deep kiss to his open mouth. He felt Crowley’s whine vibrate through his own tongue and continued to kiss him as he shook through his orgasm. It punched through him like encompassing sting of divinity, silencing the room, blacking out his vision except for the vibrant outline of Aziraphale’s wings hovering over him posessively.

When he opened his yellow eyes, Aziraphale was looking on adoringly. "You," Crowley whispered in adoration, appreciation, and awe.

"Yes, I told you I’d be here," Aziraphale smiled and kissed the top of his head.

"You always have been, haven't you?" Crowley's voice was unsteady.

Aziraphale sat with the question, remembering the years they spent apart and all the times he went to check on Crowley. He'd keep himself hidden, just making sure Crowley was safe, keeping other demons off his trail as he performed unpermitted miracles that were really more of Aziraphale’s job. They never got the hang of keeping those lines straight. "Yes," he admitted."I was never good at staying away from you."

Crowley felt his throat tighten, he remembered all the times he felt that familiar buzz graze the back of his neck. He remembered turning quickly to see nothing, no one. "I felt you there but then you were gone. Are you really here now? For good?"

This question sank in Aziraphale's chest. _He should know by now. He should know I'm not going anywhere.<\em> "I just couldn't, not yet, I couldn't reach out." His eyes were wide and glossy._

"Of course, of course. I'm sorry angel. It wasn't your fault." He curved his arms around Aziraphale and pulled him into a hug.

Aziraphale pulled back slightly remembering the knife in his palm. "Ah, I can probably get rid of this now." He blinked and it was gone back to its place in the knife block.

Crowley cupped his hand over the angel’s cheek and brought him in for a soft, loving kiss. "Let’s rest, angel. I think we need rest"

Aziraphale nodded, "yes I uh, I believe I have some things to process. A sleep might do me good." He rested his hand on Crowley’s cheek. “I’m here, Crowley.”

“I saw your wings,” he didn’t know why he chose that as a response.

“Oh, yes. Old habit, I guess.”

Crowley looked puzzled.

“Oh, well, sometimes if I was going to send them away anyway I’d just, well, send them to you I suppose.”

“What?” Crowley startled.

“Well I wasn’t really using them and I,” Crowley cut him off.

“So you _gave them away_?”

“One might say _lent_,” suggested Aziraphale.

Crowley grinned and moved his hand to the back of Aziraphale’s neck. “Alright, angel. If you say so.” He brought Aziraphale down to rest on his chest. Aziraphale nuzzled his face into Crowley’s warmth.

“I do.” He felt safe, his anxiety from earlier was falling away. He focused on the rhythm of Crowley’s breathing.

Crowley waited for Aziraphale to fall asleep before he let himself begin to drift off. Eventually, he felt the angel grow heavy and his breathing slowed. He placed a kiss on soft curls and whispered to himself a promise of love of the future.


End file.
